


Rules and Discipline (or the art of breaking them)

by persephoneregina



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, And then they were roommates, Angst, Arguments, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Kang Yeosang, College, College Roommates, Dancer Yeosang, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Just a tad bit of angst I swear, Learning to trust, Like they're stubborn, M/M, Miscommunication, Panic Attacks, Sarcasm, but it gets better, dancer wooyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneregina/pseuds/persephoneregina
Summary: “Don’t look too much into it, Yeosang. I can guarantee you it’s not that deep.” He retaliated, determined to prove Yeosang wrong, because if he thought he had him figured out, he was up for a big disappointment.“I didn’t say it was deep, I only said it could be the reason why you take criticism as an attempt to cross you. Anyway, while we’re at it and since you’re clearly not studying, why don’t you come with me to practice? I’m quite sure it won’t hurt you to try something different, for once.” Yeosang said, challengingly.“No, thank you. I’m going to stay here and try to fix these notes. Maybe another time.”Why do you have to be like this? He kept asking himself, bitterly regretting how his pride kept getting in the way, why can’t you be nice? Why can’t you let go?He knew Yeosang was right. It was nothing personal. He was the one who made it personal and who couldn’t let go of anger. Deep down, he knew. But still he couldn’t brush off the resentment he felt about being crossed.Wooyoung hadn’t always been like that. But that was a long time ago....Or that AU where Yeosang and Wooyoung found themselves being roommates in college, and neither of them is happy about it.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Rules and Discipline (or the art of breaking them)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akdash99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akdash99/gifts).



> Hello darlings!  
> This work is a commission for the lovely Akdash99, who asked for a soft enemies to lovers college AU revolving around WooSang!  
> I'm really happy about how it turned out and I hope you will all love this little piece as much as I did.  
> Please, if you do, don't forget to spare it some love and to leave a comment of kudos at the end, for they really keep me motivated and fill my day up with unspeakable joy!  
> As always, if you wish to stay updated with my future works and/or just to interact with me or see me ramble, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/persefoneregina)!
> 
> Lots of love to all of you!

## Rules and Discipline (or the art of breaking them)

When Yeosang got accepted in college, he was enthusiastic at the thought of finally being able to move past his terrible high school years: because of his shy, private and sensitive nature, he struggled to fit in with his classmates, and when it was discovered that he had a passion for ballet, they made sure he was reminded every day that he definitely was not one of them. It was not like he cared about them or what they thought about him, honestly. As a matter of fact, Yeosang had always been very comfortable with his own personality and had a deeply rooted sense of self worth, which came in handy to support him through all the teasing and the jokes his classmates made about him; he always knew, like one ancestrally knows that sort of universal truths, that his first and most important duty was to stay true to himself and acted accordingly, that being said, though, as he grew up he looked at all the other kids becoming friends or developing their relationships so happily and effortlessly, and that made him really miss the presence of someone with whom he could have had what they had, someone to hang out, to spend the holidays together, to share his interests and passions with. But that didn’t happen, not then. Nonetheless, Yeosang kept believing that it was just a matter of time: he knew his person was somewhere out there. Even more so, he felt it, and maybe, just maybe, moving to college would have been his chance to eventually meet them… Or not.

The day he arrived at the Campus, his heart almost burst with joy when he went to the students’ secretariat and was assigned a room, which he would have shared with another freshman student, but when he walked into the dorms and opened up the door of his room, he was surprised at the sight of a couple of boys, laying on the only two beds present and loudly chattering.

“E-excuse me… They must have given me the wrong keys…” He muttered, pushing his luggage back with one leg, as he took a step out.

“Kang Yeosang?” A blonde haired boy asked, raising his head from the pillow and looking at him with a raised eyebrow, his golden locks ever so messily falling on the alabaster skin of his forehead, black irises intensely studying him, making him almost feel intimidated.

“Yes?”

“No mistakes then, I was told you were going to be my roommate. Jung Wooyoung, and this is Choi San, my best friend. We arrived here together this morning.” The blonde boy said, nodding towards the other guy, who shyly smiled in his direction and waved as a self introduction. They seemed nice, Yeosang thought, and yet there was something about that whole scenario that disturbed him right away. Maybe it was the fact that none of them stood up to actually greet him, considering it was the first time they saw him; or maybe it was that he got right away the same, old feeling of being in the way, of intruding. 

“Oh. I see.” Yeosang said as he tried to brush off that underlying sense of discomfort “Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll bring my stuff inside.”

“Actually,” Wooyoung interrupted him as he put his luggage down against the wall, clearing his throat and standing up to look him in the eyes “We were wondering if you’d be positive to switching rooms with San. You know, we’ve known each other since forever and we asked to share a room, but they messed up at the secretariat. It would mean a lot for us if we could, you know... fix this bureaucratic misunderstandment without making too much of a fuss about it.”

Yeosang took a deep breath. He didn’t like where that whole conversation was going. 

He didn’t like it one bit.

He was already upset about that whole circumstance and, indeed, he would have loved to have his way out of it right away, but the problem was that, in the college’s rules of procedure it was clearly stated that he had to occupy the room assigned to him and that students were not allowed to switch between themselves without a permission and convalidation of the secretariat, which made it impossible for him to just walk out to another room at his please, and for as much as he would have loved to leave, he surely was not willing to have troubles with the rectorate on his first day there.

“Listen, Wooyoung, I understand where you’re coming from and, trust me, I completely agree: this is a huge bureaucratic mess. But you know the rules, and I don’t want to get into trouble. If the two of you want to share the same room, I suggest you both go file a complaint or an official request at the secretariat. As soon as you have the rectorate’s permission, we’ll swap. Is it ok?” He asked, trying to remain as calm and reasonable as possible.

“Seriously? Bro, it could take months…” Wooyoung scoffed in retaliation, a vein subtly inflating on his neck as he protested with his whole body and rolled his eyes, just to make his annoyance more evident “Come on, it’s an issue that could be solved among us right away!”

“Well, you’ll forgive my bluntness, but this honestly sounds like a you problem.” Yeosang answered, icy, staring at him defiantly. By no means did he intend to be overstepped and forced to do something he didn’t want, even more so when said thing could have jeopardized his permanence in the college. If Wooyoung really wanted to share the room with his best friend, then he could have used all of his belligerence into fighting the secretaries. He was not the kind of person to dig his heels in on grounds of principle but, personally, neither was he the one to get walked on over. Plus, he had no intention to cause troubles or to be caught violating the rules he had subscribed to.

“Ok, ok, ok, let’s all calm down.” San intervened, his soft voice breaking the tension right when it was almost through the roof “Wooyoung, seriously, there’s no need to argue for such a thing that can be, as Yeosang just kindly explained to us, solved following the official channels. We’ll forward a request and hope it goes for the best. Now, I think we owe Yeosang an apology. He has just arrived and surely didn’t deserve such a harsh welcome.”

“Oh shut up, San. You can apologise, if you want. I don’t have anything to apologise about.” Wooyoung said, viciously, clearly angered, as he walked out, slamming the door at his back.

“I’m really sorry, Yeosang. I mean it. And I know that so is Wooyoung… He’s not like that, usually, but sometimes he gets a little hotheaded and I think it’s safe to say that we all started off on the wrong foot…” San said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he stood up from the bed and headed towards the door to go and find his friend.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not sorry and we definitely didn’t because of me, but apology accepted I guess. At least yours. I know I got kind of...caustic, but I hope you’ll understand that I didn’t mean to argue. I just don’t want any problems with the college rules.” He answered, keeping his head high and determined to not give away how hurt he was feeling because of Wooyoung’s behavior. Yeosang knew he was right and he intended to make his point stand if it was the last thing he did, even more so after all of that charade he had to endure.

“I know, it’s all just...hectic and new, plus we were really hoping to not end up separated. But we’ll file up the request and see where that gets us. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll go look for Wooyoung and try to calm him down.” San said, with a kind smile and a meek expression that genuinely made Yeosang feel sorry for him: after all, he didn’t deserve to find himself stuck in the middle of that kind of crossfire. And, after all, if he reconsidered his actions, he was not that innocent: sure, Wooyoung had been quite assertive, but he surely had been just as combative. All of a sudden, Yeosang felt embarrassed about his lack of manners, and beyond that he was terribly ashamed by how he had allowed Wooyoung to drag him in a tasteless argument which he never intended to have. Before Yeosang could have bid him goodbye or said anything at all, San had left.

He was alone, again. He flopped on his bed and sighed, as he stared at the luggage sitting against the wall and waiting to be unpacked. It hadn’t gone as he had figured in his mind. It hadn’t gone like that at all.

* * *

  
  
  


Though he didn’t admit it to himself, Yeosang deep down hoped that, with the days going by, him and Wooyoung would have been able to talk about their discussion and sort things out, but be it their pride, be it a cruel twist of fate, they never seemed to have time to initiate a proper discussion on what happened. Namely, their main issue was that their lessons and their extracurricular activities kept the both of them out of the dorm almost all day. So, when Yeosang came back to the dorms, after his last lesson of the day, most of the time Wooyoung hadn’t come back yet, and while Yeosang woke up early to attend the college’s ballet class, Wooyoung would almost always get up at least a couple hours later than him, when he had already left. Nonetheless, when the first weekend came, they eventually found themselves together in the room for the first time, without a good reason to avoid each other besides the bad blood. In that moment, Yeosang noticed how comforting it had been, for him, to have been able to avoid the confrontation for so many days, but at the same time the atmosphere was so tensed and uncomfortable that he had to admit they couldn’t have spent a whole year like that, it would have been just unthinkable.

“Wooyoung…” He murmured, after spending a countless amount of minutes picking up every single grain of courage he had in himself, while his roommate pretended to be busy rereading his notes “About our discussion, the other day…”

As he began to speak, though, Wooyoung sighed, defeated. He hoped so much that he wouldn’t have brought up the subject, that he could have avoided facing his actions, and there he was: having to deal with everything he wished to leave behind his back. 

Without even looking at him, he interrupted Yeosang halfway and said, with a tired tone, “We don’t have to do this, you know? I mean, we’re not the first roommates to argue, so I guess we can just tolerate each other until I get an answer to my request. You don’t have to keep on apologising, and I don’t think we should give that episode more weight than it has. It happened. We just didn’t click, and that’s valid.”

“Yeah… Well. If we just have to politely try to ignore each other, I guess I’ll go practice then.” Yeosang answered, disheartened, getting up from his bed, looking like a hangdog. At least he tried, and Yeosang had had enough experience to know that, sometimes, that was all that mattered to at least feel at peace with his conscience, even though he still couldn’t help feeling sad about it. He just wished, with all of his heart, that things could have gone differently. That they could have found a common ground to bond on, even for the little time that was left for them to spend together.

While he was stuffing his backpack with his clean clothes, though, one of his ballet shoes fell on the ground, with a light sound, and when Yeosang bent down to pick it up, he caught Wooyoung staring at him with an inquisitive expression on his face.

“Is anything the matter?” He asked.

“Nothing, I just… Didn’t know you danced.” Wooyoung scoffed, hiding his eyes behind his notebook again, in an attempt to conceal his sudden spike of interest towards him.

“Well...You never really asked.” Yeosang answered, with a veil of sadness in his voice, as he pushed the shoe back to its place with an unnecessary amount of time, almost as if he were pacing in order to wait for something more to happen, for Wooyoung to say something.

“I’m sorry, I… I guess I got too curious.” his roommate muttered, shyly, yet loud enough for him to hear and turn around before opening the door, almost as if he hoped for him to stop and stay, even though his words said otherwise “Don’t mind me, anyway. I don’t want to make you lose any more time.”

“Do you dance, too?” Yeosang asked, out of genuine curiosity and just a tad of ill-concealed desire to maybe have the chance to finally have a proper conversation with Wooyoung, one where they could forget about their first encounter fiasco and maybe try to start anew.

“Yes, I do, but… Nothing of _that_ sort. I’m a freestyle dancer.” Wooyoung answered, trying to brush off the subject. THose like Yeosang couldn’t understand, anyway. 

“So that’s why you don’t do well with rules and discipline, uh?” Yeosang asked, with a smirk and a slightly challenging look in his eyes.

“Who says dance requires discipline and rules?”

“For the same reason why you need discipline in every other field: if you want to be a professional, you have to work hard and strive at the best of your faculties to excel. That’s what discipline does. It teaches you that critiques are fundamental to grow up and that it's not personal. So maybe your unfamiliarity with being corrected and following directions is the reason why you got so mad, the other day." Yeosang said with a wink, while Wooyoung rolled his eyes with a challenging smirk. This time he clearly wasn't angered. More like amused and defiant.

“Don’t look too much into it, Yeosang. I can guarantee you it’s not that deep.” He retaliated, eventually going back to his notes and determined to prove Yeosang wrong, because if he thought he had him figured out, he was up for a big disappointment.

“I didn’t say it was deep, I only said it could be the reason why you take criticism as an attempt to cross you. Anyway, while we’re at it and since you’re clearly not studying, why don’t you come with me to practice? I’m quite sure it won’t hurt you to try something different, for once.” Yeosang said, challengingly.

“No, thank you. I’m going to stay here and try to fix these notes. Maybe another time.”

When Yeosang left, Wooyoung was left with his thoughts and regrets.

 _Why do you have to be like this?_ He kept asking himself, bitterly regretting how his pride kept getting in the way, even when Yeosang tried to get close to him, to make an effort to understand him. 

_Why can’t you be nice? Why can’t you let go?_

He knew Yeosang was right. Critiques were nothing personal. Even Yeosang taking sides in the whole rooms’ distribution matter was nothing personal. He was the one who made it personal and who couldn’t let go of anger. Deep down, _he knew_. But still he couldn’t brush off the resentment he felt about being crossed and the disheartening feeling of being separated from San almost petrified him.

Wooyoung hadn’t always been like that. But that was a long time ago. Before he built his impenetrable armor to keep his heart safe. Before he found out how evil people could be. 

He tried to go back to his notes, but his mind wouldn’t cut him any slack and leave him be. After he spent way more time than necessary reading and rereading the same identical line, Wooyoung surrendered to the evidence: he was not in the mood to study and persisting would have been of no help, so he slipped in his tracksuit and worked up the courage to go look for Yeosang: if he would have been lucky enough, he would have probably found him in the Campus’ practice room. He needed to get all of that piled up stress and frustration out of his system, and seeking comfort in the single activity that had ever made him feel better since he had memory, dance, even if it meant to train with Yeosang, suddenly didn’t feel like too bad of an idea. Though Wooyoung didn’t need a fancy practice room or particular equipment, since he was not used to any of that, as he had never had the means to study or attend an appropriate school, like Yeosang surely did, that didn’t mean he couldn’t give it a try. As he was used to thinking, he didn’t lack the only things that mattered: passion and motivation, and even though he had learnt everything from music videos and on the streets, from the dance crews he became a part of since his early high school days, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have been as good as Yeosang, though in a whole different way. Wooyoung was used to having to prove his worth to people and to leave them astonished after he had done his thing: why would Yeosang have made any difference? As determined as ever, he headed to the practice room with powerful strides but, when he opened the door, he couldn’t help but being the one to remain astonished, for once. In the middle of the room, embraced by the warmth of the dimmed lights, his graceful silhouette ever so gently chiseled by the soft beams of two spotlights in front of the wall mirror, Yeosang was practicing a routine from God knows what ballet. All of a sudden, every single grain of confidence Wooyoung thought he had in himself disappeared, and he curled down to sit on his heels, mesmerized, trying his best to not make a sound that could have possibly distracted him or gotten his attention.  
There was something, in the incredibly focused and absorbed expression on Yeosang’s face, in his feather light, delicate, perfectly measured movements, that enchanted Wooyoung and almost moved him. Damn, he was _good_. For the first time, he found himself not only questioning his skills, but also having to recognise that, maybe, everything he had despised up to that moment was actually worth reconsidering, because the more he saw Yeosang gracefully pirouette and leap in the air, almost weightless and defying gravity, the more he thought that, maybe, all the time he had spent criticising and deprecating everything he didn’t understand, or refused to understand, could have been spent learning about the beauty of something so strikingly different from what he was used to consider the only right way of pursuing his passion. And now, there he was: face to face with his absolute polar opposite and finding out, in the most brutally truthful way possible, that he didn’t hate him, nor ballet, at all.

“Wooyoung! You came!” Yeosang said, shaking Wooyoung from his daydream all of a sudden, with a quite surprised, yet cheerful voice. “I hope you don’t mind if I started without you.”

“Why would I? I told you in the first place that I wouldn’t have come…” He tried to answer, as neutral as possible, yet feeling somehow ashamed for his previous display of stubbornness.

“I know. But I also knew you would’ve changed your mind.”

“Really? And how so, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Because I can tell that you’re a nice person, and if not, at least not someone who would decline a challenge.” Yeosang teasingly said, before rushing towards him with a few, elegant steps and taking him by the hands to help him stand up. “Come on, we’re going to have fun!” He added, with a beautiful smile on his face, as he pushed back a few blonde locks from his faintly blushing face.

It was in that moment, in that small fragment of time that felt suspended between reality and a daydream, that Wooyoung felt it: a weird, overpowering sensation, running through his body like a static shockwave and leaving him high and dry, incapable to react, as his mind played and replayed Yeosang’s smile over and over again and his fingertips trembled at the light touch of his roommate’s hands. 

“Is everything ok?” Yeosang asked, waving his hand in front of Wooyoung’s eyes and snapping his fingers to get his attention “You look extra weird today. If you don’t feel like it, we can-”

“What do you mean, of course I feel like it.” Wooyoung abruptly said, interrupting him before he could say anything else, before he could spot the way he knew he was looking at him, before he could look any further into the reason why he was gawping like that. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could try to teach you a small piece of a duet, if your joints don’t crack. Just for a little fun and to learn some technique. What do you say?”

“I’m telling you right away that if you think you’re gonna put me in a stocking or something you’re up for a disappointment.” Wooyoung teased with a provocative, yet playful tone.

“No stockings. But you better take off those shoes,” Yeosang said, staring at his pair of Timberlands “or you’ll remember this day for all the wrong reasons.”

“Whatever…” Wooyoung scoffed, messily throwing the shoes off at a corner of the room “Now what?” 

“Now we stretch. Straight with your back and then get slowly all the way down until you can touch your toes with your fingertips.” Yeosang answered as he stood in front of him and gave him a quick demonstration. 

When Wooyoung tried to follow him, though, he had barely reached for his ankles when he felt a burning pain at the back of his knees and all the way up to his glutes. “Fuck!”

“Not so easy, uh?” Yeosang playfully poked at him, before sitting down in front of him and slowly, yet firmly, pulling him from the wrists to help him “Now hold this position for 30 seconds.” He said, and then stood up to keep him in check.

“Is this some kind of soviet torture?” Wooyoung pleaded, feeling his cheeks flush and his muscles begging for release. 

“I mean, considering the Russian centuries-old ballet tradition, it could be a way of seeing it. Does it hurt?” Yeosang giggled, and Wooyoung thought that it was a very cute sound. 

“Like a bitch. Can’t we get to the part where we just dance?” Wooyoung asked, as his legs began to feel numb and tingling. His mind projected to him that smile from earlier, for apparently no reason at all. Yes, Yeosang’s giggle had a cute sound. Not to mention how cute he looked when he smiled. “Fuck”, he said again out loud. But this time, it was not because of his muscles.

“Now, try to get back up. Very slowly, don’t rush it. Try to feel all of your spine getting back into place. Take deep breaths, take your time, we don’t want to rush it.” Yeosang slowly spoke, as he carefully supervised every single movement he made with his watchful eyes “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy” Wooyoung answered, and he wished he was just referring to his physical condition, but the truth was that the feeling was way more than that. 

He felt confused. 

He felt unsure. 

Way out of his comfort zone, everything seemed difficult, and while he loathed himself for not even being able to properly execute one stretching exercise, the even more discomforting and saddening thing was that, for some reason, something inside of him, be it his pride or his stubbornness, hated the idea of looking lost and insecure in front of Yeosang. Even though his roommate had done absolutely nothing to make him feel uncomfortable, actually anything but that, Wooyoung still resented the thought that he could have found him ridicule, with no style, no grace, no technique….Nothing of his likes.

And for the first time ever since he had met Yeosang, all those things were suddenly important to him.

They exercised together a bit more, and during that whole time Wooyoung had a way to find out that Yeosang was actually a very kind, yet careful and precise, teacher, who seemed to have more at heart his safety and sense of self accomplishment, rather than belittling him. Surprisingly to him, Yeosang was different than anyone else he had ever met in his life: he never made him feel under evaluation or like he had to justify himself for his lack of practice, quite the opposite actually, for he would be constantly correcting him with a kind tone and gentle gestures, but still reassuring him that he was doing a good job, that he was good enough, that he could have made it, and soon enough Yeosang’s words began to weigh way more than the ones of his inner saboteur in his mind.

“Wonderfully done Wooyoung! See? You should be proud of yourself, you have just endured a whole ballet dancer’s warm up routine, it’s not for everyone to do that so well and effortlessly.” Yeosang cheered, as soon as they finished their very last exercise, giving him a delicate pat on the back and smiling at him with unprecedented warmth. 

“I have to differ on the _effortlessly_ part, if I’m being honest.” Wooyoung softly laughed, placing his hand on Yeosang’s shoulder in return, thinking that he was probably lying, but mentally thanking him with all of his heart for saying so.

“You will do better once you’ll start doing this every day, and then you’ll beg me to teach you some harder exercises.” Yeosang said, without taking his eyes off of him, for an endless amount of time during which they both stared at each other with some sort of unprecedented sense of tension that seemed to draw them inextricably closer, to the point that Wooyoung almost felt physically hurt when Yeosang slipped away from his grasp to reach for the stereo and put on a slow, enchanting, fascinating music.

“Now, look at me and follow my movements: we walk hand in hand from the back of the room all the way to its half… No, you need to be solemn and elegant, Woo, straight with your back and remember that your steps need to be fluid. Then, when we get here, you slide at my back by elongating your right leg and bending the left one, while you use your left arm to almost push me and keep it still as I pin myself on it with both of my hands like so…”

Jeez, for as much as Yeosang tried to explain to him every single step and movement with disarming simplicity and patience, Wooyoung kept messing up. That was clearly not his thing, he had to admit, and there was no way he could have actually managed to impress Yeosang with his clearly non-existent skills. At the tenth attempt, he felt his heart race faster and, at that point, his mind was so crowded with thoughts of any sort that he couldn’t hear a word of what Yeosang was telling him anymore, overwhelmed by panic and disorientation.

“I can’t do this… Yeosang, stop, I can’t do this…” He managed to mutter, before he succumbed to the urge to take a break and just focus on breathing.

“Of course you can. You’re not allowing yourself to try, that’s the issue.” Yeosang said, gently cupping Wooyoung’s face in his hands and speaking slowly, yet sternly. “Look at me, Wooyoung. I said look at me. You’re doing good. You’re doing incredibly good for your very first time and I am proud of you. But if you expect yourself to become Nureyev the first time you even try to dance a minute of the Nutcracker, you’re setting yourself up for defeat. No one is judging you here and no one will laugh at you if you mess up a plié for five thousand times in one single afternoon. If something, we’ll call the Guinness World Records, because that, too, takes talent. You are so, so brave for deciding to try something so new and out of your comfort zone, and trust me when I tell you that you have all that it takes to still achieve remarkable results. Earlier you asked me what is the sense of discipline, right? Well, here it is: _this_ is the sense of discipline. Trying the same exact step, the same movement, the same routine over and over and over again, facing your fear of failure and getting back on track right away, because perseverance is the only way to go in this discipline. I don’t think you were born knowing exactly how to do a backflip, and yet you can do that, right? The same goes with ballet and with almost everything else in life. It has to get worse before it gets better, but that’s only because, when it gets worse, it means that you’re begging to understand which mistakes you make. Now, whenever you’re ready, from the beginning.” 

Wooyoung remained perfectly still as he listened with the utmost attention to every word Yeosang said, like his life depended on it, and shockingly enough for him, the more focused he was on letting in his words, the calmer he felt, which was indeed weird for him, since not even his parents had ever managed to make him snap out of his panic attacks. He nodded with his head in understanding as he got back up from the floor and slightly shook his limbs to get the tension off of himself and then, when he felt ready, he grabbed Yeosang’s hand and gently led him into position, determined to do his best and to repay him of all of his kindness and commitment. 

When they started rehearsing all over again, he couldn’t help but noticing how something had radically changed, almost as if the both of them had decided to eventually get rid of their respective armors made of fears, of insecurities, of anxieties, and had somehow decided, altogether, to be their most authentic selves in order to make it, to give their best, to put their all into succeeding. Yeosang would constantly encourage and praise Wooyoung, with all of his heart, every time he did something, even the slightest thing, right, while when he had to correct any of his mistakes, he would do it so gently and caringly that it felt like it was no big deal, throwing in a joke here and there to leave no room for his anxiety to kick in, reassuring him that he was doing an amazing job, and making sure that he was comfortable and focused all the time. On the other side, soon enough Wooyoung found himself so caught up in their routine that time or soreness didn’t matter anymore: the only essential things, in that moment, were the music, the movements and Yeosang’s sweet smile, for which he felt more and more grateful every single time his roommate was graceful enough to bless him with it. 

“So,” eventually Yeosang muttered, out of breath, but with a bright, satisfied smile on his lips “It wasn’t that bad, right?”

“I was probably terrible and you were too kind, let’s be honest.” Wooyoung replied with a bitter smile, but he was given no time to dwell in those feelings, because he felt his roommate’s hand ruffling his hair and his airy giggle fill up his ears, like the joyful sound of a hundred ringing bells.

“Not at all! Well, what do you say, want to do it again next weekend?” Yeosang asked, with a slightly shy glint in his voice and a soft pink blush rising to kiss the apples of his cheeks.

“Sure…” Wooyoung mutered, cursing himself the moment he tried to move one step further, feeling a sudden, flaring wave of pain going from his calves all the way up to his groin “...I’d love to.”

“Good, then. Maybe we can make it a habit, so that we can… You know… Still see each other, even when we will be moving rooms.” Yeosang murmured, and this time Wooyoung was sure that there was a deep bitterness in his voice, just the same exact bitterness he felt clamping his heart at the thought that he could have, after all, probably gotten what he wished for so badly just one week before, and that now he wanted with all of himself to take back.

He liked what he had seen about Yeosang.

He liked his self awareness, his determination, his passion, his talent, but most of all, he liked his kind, sweet, gentle heart.

He liked Yeosang.

He liked him a lot.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Later on that evening, after such a long day of studying, San was supposed to go out with Wooyoung. They had planned to go to a sushi restaurant, not too far from the Campus, and he could already feel his stomach grumble.

When he walked up to the corridor, though, he felt two quite familiar male voices cheerfully talking and laughing out loud. Instinctively, San hid behind a corner, and what he saw almost made his jaw drop: Wooyoung and Yeosang, drenched in sweat and with reddened faces, were going back to their room together, with such silly smiles on both of their faces and stars in their eyes that everyone could have understood that they had something going on (and that they would have probably been the last ones to find out). San smiled. He didn’t have it in himself to go and interrupt such a precious moment: those two probably still had a lot to talk about and it was clear that they were having such a good time together that he didn’t want to barge in. So, he patiently waited for them to go back into their room, and then got back on his way out.

“I knew it,” he said out loud to himself, giggling, halfway through their floor’s corridor “I _knew it!_ ”

Too caught up in his own thoughts and rejoicing, San didn’t even see the tall man walking towards him and bumped right into him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” He murmured, as he raised his gaze and met the stern one of the other man, who was quite judgmentally staring at him like he was some sort of weirdo.

“Yeah, whatever, be more careful next time.” The man began to say, but his attention swayed away from San as soon as he heard a voice calling for him from the end of the corridor. 

“ _Seonghwa, come on, we’ll be late!_ ”

“Coming!” The tall man answered, then looked at San one more time, before vanishing behind a half-closed door.

San felt his heart flutter, all of a sudden. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have had to wait too long before someone would have noticed him, too. He could have always pretended to be daydreaming and _totally accidentally_ made sure he would have bumped into him again. After all, he was _so clumsy_ … And who said that, for once, that couldn’t have served him well?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
